


puppeteer

by clairelutra (exosolarmoon)



Series: I want the K [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Makeouts, Not much more but, Rating bump, Uh.... a little more than make outs now I guess, Well - Freeform, just makeouts frankly, steamy makeouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 07:22:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5197292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exosolarmoon/pseuds/clairelutra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>i don't bite, but i heard you might</i>
  <br/>
  <i>so let me feed your appetite</i>
</p><p>Chat Noir pays his princess a visit.</p><p>Rating bumped because <em>we must save the children.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> beta'd by the wonderful [mirthalia](http://mirthalia.tumblr.com/)!!
> 
> *decides to make this a collection instead of a multichap*
> 
> mirthalia has also made a brillian fst for puppeteer! check it out [here](http://mirthalia.tumblr.com/post/133649294556/p-u-p-p-e-t-e-e-r)!
> 
> EDIT: on indefinite hiatus, sorry guys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE THAT THIS WAS PREVIOUSLY POSTED AS CHAPTER 1 OF "I want the K"

11\. Collarbone Kiss

Heart going sixty miles a minute, Marinette gasped for air as Chat broke the kiss. Her fingernails scrabbled at the wall behind her, desperate for purchase to help support her weight because god knew her knees were buckling badly enough that she’d collapse without it.

Chat nuzzled her ear, down her neck, tracing wet, hot little patterns over her wild pulse with his tongue. His hands slid up the backs of her thighs, lifting her feet off the ground and pressing her hips into the painfully rough stonework behind her, nudging her stance wider so he could pin her there with his weight.

She cried out, legs winding around his waist automatically, instinctively, raw heat searing her blood and pulsing an animalistic beat straight down to her marrow.

He moved one hand up to cradle her head, claws sharpening to snap her hair free of its binds and then dulled again to tangle in her loose locks without fear.

His hand fisted in her hair and gave a sharp tug, forcing her to bare her throat, and he ducked below it to her collarbone.

She cried out again, louder, when he bit her, rough incisors dragging over the delicate skin there with surprising gentleness — no intent to harm, just to make her _feel_.

Feel she did, enough to make her hips jerk violently, still trapped between his and the wall. The sticky summer air felt like a cold winter wind where it hit her overheated flesh.

He sucked the spot he’d bitten, alternately scraping it with his teeth and laving his tongue over it in apology, and she was absolutely sure he was going to eat her alive.

After an indeterminable amount of time, he finally let go, pressing a perfectly sweet kiss over the mark she was certain he’d just given her.

He pulled back to take a look at her, at her kiss-blushed lips and her disheveled hair and her blown pupils and her heaving chest and the bright red hickey on her collarbone, and _smirked_.

“Miss me, Princess?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~chat totally sounds like he smoked half a twelve-pack after a kiss like that, but i couldn't figure out how to work that into the narrative. rip me.~~


	2. Chapter 2

10: Neck Kiss

The thought that _maybe he shouldn’t be doing this_ is a very distant one, one he can barely hear over the rush of blood in his ears and the slick noises of their mouths meeting and parting in heated rhythm.

He hadn’t intended to come back.

Last time had been an accident. A little harmless flirting turned not so harmless after all, smoldering looks and smothered frustration catching light like a brushfire with a single comment. Still in costume, he'd cornered her behind her home and waited for her to tell him to stop.

She hadn’t.

This time it was seeing Marinette in class the day after their rendezvous, witnessing her touching the mark, _his mark_ , over her clothing where he knew it still lingered, the cant of her lips secret and sly and pleased.

He hadn’t intended to come back.

He hadn’t intended to let that voyeuristic little moment burrow its way into his brain all day, eating up every other thought until he couldn’t _function_ for thinking about her, her touch, her kiss, the ravished look that had been in her eyes when he’d finally stopped.

He hadn’t intended to come back, but here he was in costume yet again, trapping her in an alley behind their school, letting her mottle his skin with her wonderful, _wonderful_ mouth.

_Photoshoot._

She was pressing her lips to his neck, right below the corner of his jaw, and his skin raised in gooseflesh from head to toe. He groaned low in his throat and tipped his head back, arching, involuntarily begging _more more more more oh god please._

He had a photoshoot.

He had a _photoshoot_ in _two hours_ , and he needed to get her away from his neck before she did something that would get him cross-examined by every authority figure in his life.

In his momentary distraction, she moved away from nibbling at his adam’s apple to sink her teeth into the firmer flesh below his ear. It wasn’t soft or gentle or sweet, just pure, raw heat backed by a spark of pain.

That spark was what he needed to finally push her back against the wall, even as it lit up his every nerve ending like a runway in response.

She fought him for a moment, protesting the interruption, but eventually got the message and leaned back.

He let go of her as soon as he was sure she wasn’t going to slip under his guard again, and set his hands on either side of her head against the wall, propping himself up and sucking air back into his straining lungs.

Denied the pleasure of making him lose his mind with her touch, Marinette turned to words instead.

“So you can dish it out but you can’t take it, _hero?_ ” she taunted, sparkling cerulean eyes darkened into sapphire. She sounded downright _debauched_.

He was distantly aware that his claws had punched straight through the cement behind her head at the title.

 _Civilian_ , he reminded himself. _Delicate civilian_. He couldn’t do what he desperately wanted to do in that moment because she was a _civilian_ , and she’d _break_ if he touched her too roughly.

“Ma-ma-mar-ahhhh- _marks_ ,” he wheezed, fumbling the words and trembling head to toe from the effort of holding back. He swallowed heavily, lungs on fire. “Se-cret… secret iden—”

She dragged her nails over his back, just hard enough that he could just feel them through the leather, and he gasped, tingling shock seizing his muscles up tight.

Never in his _life_ had he hated an inanimate object quite as much as he hated his suit in that moment.

“— _iden_ -tity, _princess_. I have one, you doh-h—... you don’t.”

“Hmm,” was all she said, lips curving into something dark, something _predatory_ , something he never once dreamed he’d see on sweet, _innocent_ Marinette’s face.

She tucked those those lips into the ‘v’ of his collar, touching him with a hint of teeth, a hint of threat, against his pulse, and hooked two fingers around his bell to get at more of his neck.

The faint, slow clicking of his zipper (how could she even _do_ that? It was supposed to be _fused to his skin_ ) could be exactly timed to the rate of deterioration of Chat’s sanity.

“Guess I just can’t leave a mark, then.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so  
> we  
> um  
> we start to earn that M rating now, huh? *nervous laughter*  
> *backs slowly off the stage to avoid the tomatoes*
> 
> (for the record, i blame mirthalia for e v e r y t h i n g)
> 
> for those worried: there are no orgasms and no genital touching and no penetration, and that's about all i can say.

14: Kiss Along the Hips

His first love bite was fading.

It was only a faint discoloration, now, a slightly darker pink than the healthy (tantalizing) flush of her skin.

It dug at the primal, irrational parts of him, the ones that said, ‘she no longer bears your mark, so she is no longer yours.

It was silly. Stupid.

She’d never been ‘his.’

But, when he’d been able to see that little physical proof of their first kiss, that had been all he could think about, the highlight in his every fantasy — Marinette with his mark, his kiss, his _claim_ branded into her skin like ownership.

No one could own Marinette, but _fuck_ if the thought of her only ever doing this with _him_ didn’t make his blood run hot and cold and—

He wanted to have that again.

Marinette objected.

“K-K-Kitty, st— _ah!_ Sto— _wait_ —”

She tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled hard.

The wet noise of his mouth parting from the skin of her collarbone stuck under his skin like a drug. The pain pinpricking his scalp only added fuel to his fire. He let out a heartfelt groan, hips grinding into the bed of their own accord.

“ _Chat_.”

“Wh-… Wha—…” he panted, barely able to see straight for the chemical concoction of _Marinette_ flowing through his veins.

“C-c’mon,” she panted right back, eyes glazed and chest brushing up against his collarbone with every inhale. “Do you re-really want the entire world to know you’ve been k-kissing _me?_ ”

There’s a strange cadence to that question that he can’t parse, something self-deprecating mixing with the arousal, but he’s having trouble forming coherent words after hearing ‘want the entire world to know’ in that rich rasp that he’d turned her voice into.

_He'd_ done that.

_He_ had.

_Him_.

Adrien Agreste.

Chat Noir.

_He’d done that._

Did he want to let the entire world know he’d some way, somehow, been given the opportunity to kiss Marinette Dupain-Cheng nearly senseless?

_Yes, hell yes, fuck yes, please oh god oh **fuck yes**._

She must have read his answer in his eyes from the awkward position she held his head in, because she blushed darker and opened her mouth.

She hesitated, then said, “Well.” And she shifted her gaze to the side, the first hint he’d seen all night of the shy schoolgirl he knew out-of-costume. “I happen to like having you as my dirty little secret.”

Her rasp darkened into something downright filthy on the last three words, eyes sliding up to meet his, and the combination left him breathless, antsy, _frantic_ , helpless desire searing him from head to toe.

His mouth crashed into hers only slightly by design, lust-addled and feeling like he’d completely lost any self control he may have ever had.

She arched, moaning into the kiss, sweet and fluttery and feminine and so utterly _satisfying_ it had him begging for more, pushing her deeper into her bank of pillows, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand and sliding his other up her body.

He caught his claws in her nightshirt, dragging it up to expose the soft, delicate, sweet-smelling skin of her hip and stomach, and wrenched himself away from her mouth.

He paused there, distracted by the stars swimming in his eyes, then by the ones glittering in hers, then by her wetly glistening cherry-red lips, then the flushed skin of her throat, its lean, graceful lines and vulnerable state.

His gaze dragged lower of its own accord, to the dip of her cleavage to her covered-but-unbound breasts, her nipples pushing up against the fabric of her nightshirt and shifting under it with every breath she took. Below that hypnotic sight, the material of her nightshirt was bunched up over her ribcage, revealing—

Oh, right.

He released her wrists and slid down her lithe form, bringing both his hands to her hips.

She clutched at his shoulders but failed to even _attempt_ to push him away, and he took that as permission to hook his thumbs in her sleep shorts and pull them dangerously low on her hips.

Her thigh jumped up to block him from removing them entirely; pointlessly, seeing as they were as low as he needed them to be already, but he took that as a signal to let go and cradle her now-bare hips instead.

“What-” she squeaked, face scarlet, hands clutching at his leather-clad shoulders even tighter.

His shifting of her clothing had revealed the tips of the ‘V’ where her thighs met her hips, and he had to take a couple of deep breaths and swallow a few times before he could speak.

“I’ll just have to leave a mark where the world won’t see it, then,” he said. He couldn’t recognize his own voice, it was so far gone, his smug leer nearly overpowered by unsteady, helpless desire.

He got to see her eyes go wide in the split second it took him to start sucking the lowest point of the ‘V’ he’d revealed.

“Ah!” Marinette nearly shouted. She clapped her hand to her mouth and arched, writhing against his grip, and he could only hold her tighter, instincts screaming at him to _just take her already_.

Musk, salt, sweat. His mouth watered, tongue laving to taste. He tried to set a rhythm, a pattern, _suck, lick, suck, bite_ , but her hips twitched and jumped with every touch, breathy little moans punctuating her heavy panting, and he couldn’t keep track of _anything_ any more.

He drew back an indeterminable amount of time later, the sound of Marinette’s high, frustrated whine following his retreat. He looked up to check on her—

—and nearly choked on his tongue.

She was flushed all the way down her chest, the rosy top of a breast visible over the hem of her V-neck, eyes glazed, teary at the corners, lips bitten raw and left lust-slack, hair curled into ringlets at the edges and stuck to her temples with sweat, hands tangled in her wrinkled sheets…

“A mark for you alone, Princess,” Chat croaked, trying not to be too obvious about the way he was cataloging the picture before him.

He was pretty sure he was failing.

He was also pretty sure he’d seen less suggestive sights in hentai manga.

_Fuck_ , she looked like sex.

She…

She kicked him in the ribs.

He rolled off her, ardor cooling enough to let him think that he may have, possibly, taken this just a little bit too far.

“You are a _very bad kitty_.” she said, stiff and frustrated and confirming his vague fears.

He winced. “I’m—”

“You can show yourself out,” she informed him, still bright red and ravished. She wet her lips. “And don’t come back tonight.”

_Tonight?_

He blinked at her.

"Tonight?"

She pointed up at her trap door, not looking him in the eye. “ _Yes_ , tonight. You are on a twelve-hour ban. Now, _out_.”

And with that, she rolled over, away from him, dragging her quilt over shoulder as she did so.

He looked at her exposed ears and neck, both just the right shade of bright pink to match her new blanket cocoon, and decided to show himself out.

He was _not_ looking forward to the trip home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ now with SEXY AS HELL FANART](http://thecavedrawingsofrai.tumblr.com/post/133708650213) ( **nsfw** warning)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS WAS THE CHAPTER FROM HELL OH GOD JUST TAKE IT

19: Forceful Kiss

His eyes were downcast as he crawled through her window, avoiding her gaze.

"Listen, Princess—"

That was as far as she let him get.

She smothered the flow of words with her mouth and hauled him deeper into her room, dismissing whatever he was going to say in favor of feeding the seething flames in her abdomen.

If it was still important afterwards, he could tell her then. Right now she had _needs_.

Her mouth parted against his, stroking and nibbling and coaxing and _demanding_ to be let in. His response was delayed, slow with shock, but he opened to her with a soft, rumbling groan against her lips all the same.

She wasted no time in taking advantage of it.

She followed her mental map of the most sensitive areas of his mouth and tongue, needing needing _needing_ to draw a reaction from him, needing to hear him, to feel him _respond_ to her after the night she'd had.

The damn cat had promised to love Ladybug, so why wouldn't he kiss her?

Chat struggled to match her, still dazed and more reactive than anything else. Gloved hands clung to her waist, claws scratching at her skin just beneath the hem of her shirt.

She pulled him tighter against her, shuddering, sucking his lower lip into her mouth and scraping her teeth over it. The moan it dragged out of him went straight to her core. She gasped, tripping over her feet, dragging him with her as the intensity of it resonated in her bones.

He caught her, hands on the backs of her thighs sliding up, up, up, up over her backside, up over the small of her back, up over the curve of her waist, up over the swoop of her shoulder blades, grasping her biceps and holding her tighter as he responded, tongue touched to hers for only a brief moment before exploring her mouth.

It was slow, gentle — _far_ too gentle — but she whimpered and shuddered anyway, opening up wider, hips jumping at the way he slowly, _oh so slowly_ took her mouth.

It wasn't enough. His reaction still wasn't enough. He still didn't want her enough.

She switched directions, going from aimlessly pulling to shoving him backwards until the backs of his legs hit her lounge, then shoved harder to force him down onto it.

The damn cat had promised to love Ladybug, so _why wouldn't he kiss her?_

He'd had the perfect moment today, in an abandoned corner during a stakeout. He'd had her pinned against a chimney, faces only inches apart and the distance shrinking, and he'd—

He'd backed away.

He'd _backed away_ , stammering excuses and leaving her intensely frustrated, wondering what she'd done _wrong_.

He was happy enough to kiss _Marinette_ , so why wouldn't he kiss _Ladybug?_

She crawled over him on the chaise lounge, never once breaking the kiss, taking her insecurity and frustration out on him now that she had him both willing and where she wanted him.

Chat let out another groan, lower and huskier in timbre than the last, his side of the kiss _finally_ beginning to match hers in heat. She drew back and hovered, needing to take stock of him and what she'd accomplished in the last minute or so.

For a moment he chased her, a whine escaping his throat, then fell back against the pillows of her lounge, panting. Her partner was flushed, blinking eyes slightly blown and unfocused... until they fell on her. Her belly clenched, thighs flexing under the heat of that look.

"Th-that was," he puffed, swallowing hard as his hand went to her hip in a steadying motion. "That was quite the welcome, princess."

He was wisecracking. It seemed she hadn't kissed him hard enough.

She ignored the hand on her hip and dove back in, relishing his surprised gasp, greedily chasing its source, tangling her hand in his hair so she could move his head to a different, better angle.

She kicked off her shoes, the soft thumps of them hitting the floor ringing in her ears like a gavel, _order in the court, order in the court_ , but there was no order, just him and her and the electric pressure that was building in her bones.

Three akuma attacks spent watching him strut his stuff had left her _burning_ in a hopeless and futile way; left her with a longing that congealed into an empty, restless ache in her bones once she was alone. She couldn't get rid of that ache no matter what she did. It just sat and simmered, distracting her and making her slow and irritable, causing her to snap at her friends and family over nothing and keeping her awake in the worst of ways.

Yet so much as a _look_ from him and the ache would burst into desire once more, making her want to trace the contours of his mouth with her tongue when he was close, making her want to chase his body heat when he moved away, making her want to beg _kiss me touch me take me please **anything**_ whenever his lips curled in that sinful smirk.

Dealing with it was beyond her. Knowing _how_ was beyond her.

Control was a half-remembered thing of the past. She could only _want_ him, want him desperately and want him _now_.

In the now, her lungs began to burn enough for her to pull back again and catch her breath, lips tingling in complaint of the loss.

This time there were no wisecracks from her kitty, only shuddering pants and swallowed hums.

_Good._

She sat back, straddling him. His body was fever-warm between her thighs, hard muscle shifting with every breath. She took a sharp breath of her own, mouth going dry at the feeling of him through the thin fabric of her leggings.

Well, her leggings and his suit.

His _goddamned_ suit.

A spark of righteous anger flared at the sight of the thick, indestructible material. She dragged her eyes down it and the lean physique of the body it hid, gaze settling on the long zippers of his pockets in the outer casing.

In the _outer casing_.

Inspiration struck. She tugged down the zipper tabs, slipping her fingers into the pockets to see if the suit was any thinner inside.

To her joy, it _was_. Much thinner, actually; she could feel the heat of him so much more closely there, could feel the trembling of his abdominal muscles, the erratic pulse fluttering under his skin... She swallowed and subtly licked her lips, a quiver needling through her gut as he squirmed at her touch, watching her with wide eyes.

Wanting to get at more of him, even if just through his pocket linings, she scooted her hips back to meet his.

A gasp tore out of her at the movement, spine snapping straight (she hadn't realized she was so _wet_ ), which shifted her weight and brought her attention to—

Oh.

She shifted again, wondering if she was imagining it, the physical proof of her effect on him — and he _groaned_ , slamming his eyes shut and flexing his hands on her hips.

_Oh._

A thrill of power sparked down her spine, jolted her belly, prickled her scalp. She arched in its wake, curving her back and pressing her breasts together with her biceps for emphasis on almost pure instinct.

(Almost, because she'd caught him staring before. She'd just never quite had the courage to do something like _this_.)

A slow, deliberate smirk formed on her face, and she watched with glee as his eyes flit from her lips, to her chest, to where her thighs bracketed his body and then all the way back up, his adam's apple bobbing.

"So," she purred, sliding her hands fully into his pockets, face warm and heart in her mouth. She made a show of licking her lips, emboldened by the way his eyes snapped to her mouth like she'd done something _mind-blowing_. "Just how _uncomfortable_ does this suit get, kitty?"

His slit pupils make it very, _very_ easy to see how wide they went in the split second before she flattened her palms inside the pockets, smoothing over taut sinew with only one very thin layer of cloth between them — and then he arched, throwing his head back on her pillows to expose the muscle jumping in his jawline, the convulsive working of the lines of his throat.

Her lungs emptied at the display of submission, exhaling on an airless laugh. Drawing her hips in a slow, teasing circle, she threw her shame and reservations out the window in exchange for stoking the heat in her abdomen, the heat in her breasts, the heat in her thighs.

He gave a strangled shout and writhed underneath her, _writhed_ between her legs and up against the apex of them. That was all it took to melt her bravado into a sharp whimper, toes curling against the fabric of her lounge as her core tightened like a vice.

"Very," Chat choked, struggling to keep himself still. "Very, very, very — oh _god_ — very un-uncomfort— _nngh!_ "

He cut off on a snarled grunt when she shifted again, clutching at her hips like a liferaft.

(There was a faint thought that maybe she should put a stop to this, that they should slow down, but it was very, very difficult to hear over Chat's strangled panting and the pounding of her own blood.)

She moved her hips in another slow circle, fingers spreading, every part of her hoping to get that noise again (and again and again and again and—).

His hands left her hips to clutch the sides of the lounge cushion, back arching into the air as he bucked into her.

She gasped, rolling into the motion, vision gone with the ecstasy of _him_ —

The world tipped. Her stomach swooped — not in a good way — and with an aborted grab at his pockets she found herself greeting her floor with a painful crash. (For the umpteenth time. They _had_ to stop meeting like this.)

She gasped for air, cool floorboards slowly leeching heat from her skin as she waited for the world to stop spinning.

"Are you—" Chat started.

She glanced up to find him peeking over the pink-and-white edge of her lounge, only his eyes and ears visible.

"Are you okay?" he finished, chagrined, pulling up a little more until she could see the flush under his mask and the embarrassed, worried grimace on his mouth.

"Yep," she squeaked, voice not yet back to full working order. "Peachy."

He groaned and drew back to press his face into the cushion, his one visible leather ear twitching and drooping. "I am so sorry."

She exhaled a breath caught between a sigh and a laugh, and reached up to pet the top of his head. It took a few tries, her distracted fingers finding the bed and his shoulder and his neck as she did her best to ignore the surge of wanting still in her blood. But eventually she managed, finding his fluffy head and giving it a comforting ruffle.

"You're good, Chat."

He turned his head to rake his eyes over her, giving her a little smirk that said more than words ever would.

_Oh, it's **on** ,_ she couldn't help but think. Her fingers tightened, tugging sharp and rough at his hair as she pulled herself back up onto the lounge and onto him. Letting go, she ran them down over his shoulders and up the tight fabric encasing his arms to grab his wrists, hitching them above his head, savouring the fractional widening of his eyes.

She leaned into the pose like a cat, then met his gaze and _very deliberately_ ran her tongue over her teeth.

His smirk dropped.

Bending down, she let her lips brush his ear and exhaled until she felt him shudder.

"But I'm better."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry christmas pt 2!!
> 
> this one is much less sad than my other gift, promise XD

12: Chest Kiss

Marinette's fan was broken. It caught with a little grind on every revolution it gave, failing to actually bring the temperature of the room down at all. All it did was stir the muggy summer humidity around like a pot of stew.

That humidity sat on her skin, dewing under her clothing, making her nice white button-down stick to her skin and itch uncomfortably. It was a relief when Chat's claws caught the back of the blouse, lifting it off her slick, sweaty back, and she hummed her appreciation into his mouth.

He pulled away softly, slowly, their mouths parting with a wet noise, and looked down at her with dark, hooded, considering eyes.

She blinked back, open, and drew in a shuddering breath, using his shoulders to steady herself. The heat slowed them today, the oppressive weight of it thick and heady as they knelt on her bed, turning the kisses they shared molasses-sweet, molasses-slow, rich and languid.

Chat kept his eyes on hers as he carefully shifted his hand from the curve of her back down to the bare skin he'd revealed at the small of it. She shivered — like she usually did when his hands ventured in that direction — and held his gaze, bemused at the deliberation. His glove did feel very, very nice there, so she didn't say a word. Only waited.

He didn't keep her in suspense. Just as carefully as he'd moved his hand there, he set his claws against her damp skin.

Then, without any warning, drew them sharply across the small of her back.

The force of the sensation shot through her nerves like a whip crack. Her nails dug into his shoulders while tingles shot through her flesh, tearing through her daze and stoking the muted glow in her core the same way kerosene stoked bonfires. She pressed her face against his throat and gasped quietly as her thighs threatened to give out, trying to spread on pure instinct.

Against the bridge of her nose, his throat vibrated with a terrifyingly considering hum.

Marinette swallowed hard. That could mean something either very good, or very bad.

Or both.

'Both' seemed to be the answer when he drew his claws over her skin again, more slowly this time but with the same amount of pressure, and Marinette's thighs really did start to give out. Clinging to him didn't help; her front slid tantalizingly down his as she slipped, the friction of his hard muscle against her breasts and stomach making her head spin and her insides melt.

She whimpered against his collarbone, biting at his suit to muffle the noises escaping her throat as she shook and tingled. The sensations were both far too much and not nearly enough, trapping her between extremes, driving her to both squirm into and twitch away from his hands in turn.

His claws changed direction for one tiny little scratch, the unexpected movement tipping the balance in favor of 'too much.' Marinette's elbows locked, pushing him away of their own accord.

Even so, she whined when his fingers slipped away. The scales swung wildly, and it _wasn't_ enough.

Chat sat back, leaving the the humid summer air to swirl between their bodies and cool the sweat soaking damp through her shirt. He gave her the same considering look he'd given her before he'd reduced her to this wreck, and Marinette viewed it with new trepidation.

Without his support she sank back on her heels, knees spreading wide in spite of herself, and Chat's eyes went from considering to...

Well.

She wondered what _she_ looked like, to make _him_ look like _that_ — she could feel her minuscule jean shorts riding high on her thighs, white shirt plastered to her body and going see-through with the sweat slicking her skin. Her hair was curling at her temples and nape from more of the same, tangled and loose from his hands, and her lips felt swollen... she probably looked very thoroughly kissed.

Chat opened his mouth to say something, and paused. Cleared his throat. Tried again.

"Arms," he croaked, watching her like he was trying to hold himself back — she wished he wouldn't. "Put your arms above your head?"

Confused but willing, she raised her hands above her head.

Quirking a shaky little grin at her baffled stare, he caught her left wrist and moved it up and over, stretching out her shoulders and tendons deliciously in the process. Then he repeated the process with her right wrist, bringing it up to cross over her left.

She caught his eye and blinked at him, questioning.

His grin only widened.

"Think you can keep them there?" he challenged softly, trailing his hands back down to her hips, making the fabric of her clothing shift against her in irritating, wonderfully prickly ways.

Twisting her fingers together where he had placed them, she smirked a wordless dare right back.

_Try me._

Challenge issued, challenge accepted, and she saw the recognition of it spark in his eyes. He slid a hand into her hair and encouraged her to tip her head back with a gentle tug.

She did so, baring her throat to him, gut clenching tight in anticipation and nerves.

He ducked down to press his lips right above the hollow of her throat, right at the most sensitive, most vulnerable of the places she'd just opened to him. A sharp breath caught in her teeth, sudden tears pricking the corners of her eyes at the unexpected intimacy, chest compressing under the feeling.

His mouth moved on, moved down, pressing kisses to her sternum as his fingers left her hair and drifted back to the small of her back to drag his claws over her flesh again.

Her hands twisted together, and she firmly reminded herself that she wasn't allowed to touch him right now. It took effort to bite back the urge to grab him, guide him, her teeth gritting at the shudder that shot down her spine.

The claws on her back drew a soft figure 8, sending electrifying little sparks skittering under her skin that made her jerk, a tender caress to a sweet spot she never would have guessed she had.

He continued to draw kisses down her chest, lower and lower and lower, and she dimly realized that his other hand had come up to unbutton her shirt. The side of his nose brushed against the swell of her breast, following the line her bra cup drew over it, and a whimper caught high in the back of her throat while her hips jumped, thighs trying to spread wider.

_There_ , she wanted to tell him, _there there there, I need you there_ , but neither her voice nor her airways would obey her. All she could do was arch helplessly into the touch, hoping he got the message.

Apparently he did. Pausing the meandering trail of his mouth, he turned his head to first press a kiss to the spot, then opened his lips to apply a light suck.

Marinette's hips bucked without her consent, dislodging his hand in the process, and she very nearly swore. What came out instead was a choked growl, rough enough to play counterpart to the way her shoulders were starting to burn in all the best ways.

His voice thrummed in a low laugh against her breast, making her squirm even more violently. His hand replaced itself on the small of her back, lower this time, nearly dipping beneath the waist of her shorts with each slow drag of his claws.

Then he pushed her down into the pillows to suck a mark into her skin for real.

By the time he was finished her vision was wavering, too hot in the summer heat, too tight under her own skin, too full and not nearly full enough, ready to _beg_ if only she had the words to do it.

The hand not on her lower back came up to push the cup of her bra to the side, and her thighs jerked still wider, her ragged breaths adding to the humid air between them. This was it, this was what she needed, desperately, right in that moment—

Only for the moment to be shattered by a loud, all-too-identifiable cry from somewhere outside.

_"Tense? Frustrated? I think you all need a little DOWNTIME!"_

The declaration was quickly followed by a wave of terrified screams, which heralded an explosion, after which descended ominous silence.

Chat's head snapped up, his green eyes wide.

She was going to _kill the damn akuma_.

Marinette lowered her arms with stiff movements as the villain's artificially enhanced voice rang out again.

_"So much work and so little play! Everybody's just going to lay back and RELAX for a while with the help of my Bath Bombs~"_

Chat reared up without thought and then paused and turned back to her, uncertain.

She glared.

He blinked.

"Well?" she snapped, resisting the urge to shake him. Her body ached fiercely in protest of the loss of his heat, even in the day's attempt to make freshly baked muffins out of the two of them. "That was an _akuma_ , hero. Don't you have somewhere to be?"

That earned her a very strange look, presumably for her vitriol.

Well, he wasn't the one being left high and dry after something like _that_.

"Ye-e-es," her partner said slowly, expression cautious. "Will you be all right, princess?"

No. No she wouldn't. "Of course I will."

A tree took the opportunity to fall in the park, presumably from the explosion. The boom of felled lumber sounded surprisingly nearby.

Caution morphed to worry behind the green eyes of his mask. "That was _really_ close. Maybe I should stay until Ladybug comes."

_Yes_ , she thought acidly. _Maybe you should._

(Of course, there was the small problem of Ladybug being unable to show up in a more literal way until he left.)

"I'll be okay, I promise," she sighed, giving her frustration a swift kick in its metaphorical butt. She needed to be a responsible superhero right now, even if she wasn't wearing the spots.

Chat gave her an insultingly unconvinced look, and Marinette cast around for a reassurance that would get him to leave.

"Ladybug," she said, spitting out the first thing that came to mind. "Ladybug will come check on me."

"Uh. Really?" he asked her, startled.

"Y-yup," she lied, the words tasting funny in her mouth. "She normally does."

"Sh-she does?"

_He didn't have to look **that** surprised_ , Marinette grumped to herself. Hadn't Ladybug asked him to look after Marinette once?

Which... kind of implied she and Ladybug were close. She could work with that.

"Yeah," Marinette chirped nervously, fingers coming together and winding and unwinding in her little tell. She had a _terrible_ poker face. "She uses my room as a hideout when I'm not here. A-and she checks on me after big attacks, sometimes. And she was going to come over later — she told me!"

That was reasonable, right? For Marinette to be Ladybug's keeper? She fought down the panicked burn in her stomach.

Another explosion rang out from the other side of the park.

"Right," Chat drew out slowly. "If you're really sure—"

"I am," she interjected hurriedly.

"—then I guess I have an akuma to fight."

"Yup," she squeaked, trying to wave only to find she'd tangled her fingers together so tightly they required _un_ -tangling. She worked her hands free of each other, looking up in time to catch Chat's salute as he crawled to the edge of her bed and stood on the ladder.

Almost instantly he hunched over, a pained little 'tch' cutting through the humid air.

"I'm okay," he reassured her before she could ask, holding up a wry hand even as he continued to hunch over her handrail.

"A-are you... sure?" she called out hesitantly, tugging her clothes back into place while he kept curled in on himself during his hobble down her ladder.

"I'm sure," came the dry reassurance, and he tentatively straightened up to open her window.

Any attempts to ask if he maybe needed to sit down a while longer were stalled by the jaunty salute he gave her. Marinette only had time to raise her hand in an answering gesture before he was out the window.

As soon as she was sure he was gone, she dropped her hand to press the heel of her palm between her thighs and tipped her torso forward, wishing her bed was hard enough for a good solid head thumping. Her earlier panic had cooled her down enough that it was unlikely she could take care of her tension before at least a city block was destroyed.

Pressing her face into her pillow, she spat out every curse word in her vocabulary in rapid succession, then took a deep breath and forced herself upright.

"Tikki, transform me."

The magical light swirled around her body, doing nothing to ease the hot aching _unfinished_ feeling. She reflected that she was going to _kill_ that akuma.

_Marinette..._ Tikki murmured warningly in her mind.

...She was going to finish that akuma very quickly and _non-fatally_ , Marinette corrected herself.

Tikki just sighed, and Marinette hurried to pull herself out of her hatch so she could take care of at least _one_ of her problems this afternoon.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *doesn't look anyone in the eye as i gi n ger ly nudge the ra t in g u p t o E*

5: Firm Kiss

He hadn’t expected this.

He hadn’t expected _her_.

He’d always thought Marinette was cute — how could she _not_ be, with those lips and those hips and that energy? — but this was…

This was something else.

Kissing Marinette was a special sort of addicting he wouldn’t ever have guessed _existed_ if he hadn’t experienced it first hand.

He could have foreseen waking up with the memory of her taste in his mouth, could have expected falling asleep to fantasies of her — recent attempts aside, Ladybug had kissed him exactly once after a bad battle and it had stayed with him for _years_ ; he could still remember the hitch of her breath and the taste of her tears in that little moment of weakness like it had only happened yesterday — but he hadn’t foreseen the sheer _force_ of his craving for Marinette, hadn’t expected how _omnipresent_ wanting her could be.

He hadn’t foreseen needing her, breathing her, feeling her everywhere he went, on his skin just as much as she was under it. He hadn’t foreseen the way a little tilt to her mouth could shut him up like nothing else could. He hadn’t foreseen _twitching_ in his seat with anticipation whenever she so much as raised a hand to answer a question in class.

He hadn’t foreseen Marinette squirming in his lap while Ladybug peeled back the collar of his suit to nibble the junction of his neck and shoulder, pressed hot and flush against his back — but life was full of unforeseeable things, and Chat wasn’t much inclined to question this one.

“Hey,” Ladybug whispered. Her lips trailed up his neck and exhaled the words into the hollow beneath his ear, eliciting a helpless shudder. “Move your arms a little.”

Marinette hummed a question into his mouth at the feel of his shudder, and drew back entirely at the sound of Ladybug’s command. She studied the two superheroes with dark, speculative eyes and held still as Chat’s hands fell away from her waist, silent but for her soft breathing.

Ladybug rewarded Chat with a little kiss to the same spot behind his ear. He dropped his head back with a gasp, open to any more attention she might deign to lavish on the area while her touch sunk into the pit of his stomach and settled at the bottom.

Ignoring the invitation, she pressed harder against his back. Modest breasts slid deliciously from the bottom of his shoulder blades to the highest curve of his back as she reached around him, muscled thighs digging into his hips where she bracketed them.

When a knee brushed his chest, his eyes snapped open ( _when had they closed?_ ) to find Marinette laid out before him on her own bed. She rested back on her elbows while red-clad hands manipulated her legs, pulling them to part on either side his hips, skirt rucked just high enough to punch the air out of his lungs.

Marinette caught his eye, held his stare and _winked_ as Ladybug’s hands spread her legs to a downright _obscene_ degree, saucy and smug and entirely too comfortable with putting her lacy white underwear on display for him.

Chat swallowed with a dry mouth and tried to remember how to breathe.

Ladybug didn’t give him the chance.

Dragging Marinette in by the backs of her knees, his partner leaned him forward while stretching his classmate out _mind-bendingly_ beneath him until he was pillared between their hips, his groin bracketed by Marinette’s thighs from the front and Ladybug’s from the back, blanketed by heat on all sides.

Chat braced himself against the bed and stamped down the urge to rut against them — an urge doubled, tripled by the pleased hum Ladybug let buzz against the shell of his ear. He could feel the buzz vibrating down his spine, gaining intensity until it rattled in his bones.

“That’s better.”

Ladybug’s hands slid up the swell of Marinette’s thighs to rest low on her hips, and he watched, hypnotized, as a scarlet thumb stroked over the area where the skirt had skewed aside to reveal his mark.

Marinette _squeaked_ , cheeks blooming a matching crimson and her hips jerking into the contact — and, by extension, into _Chat_ , whose vision went white around the edges at the unexpected pressure.

He closed his eyes deliberately this time, sucking in several deep breaths in a futile attempt to re-center himself. With his attention focused on trying not to shake, he was left defenseless against the way Ladybug slid back down his back, pressed so tight against him he couldn’t _think_ and ripping a helpless moan from his throat. Her belly pressed against the lower curve of his spine, sloping up to meet the hard struts of her ribcage with the soft, soft weights of her breasts resting back on his shoulder blades.

Her breathing was off-rhythm with his, and the way it made their points ( _expanses_ ) of contact move together yanked his attention back with every breath he took.

“Go on,” she murmured, cheek resting on his shoulder, face turned into him so he could feel the hot, damp air over the edge of his collar. “Kiss her.”

His eyes flew open at the command, falling on Marinette where she was still spread out in her own sheets. She tilted her head, looking between him and Ladybug, panting a little from Ladybug’s touch.

Chat’s stomach clenched.

They met halfway, both moving to obey the order after the same moment of hesitation, him crouching forward on his knees and Marinette rising off the bed to meet him. They kissed softly, softly, softly, slow and gentle and sweet — far calmer than anything they’d managed on their own.

“There you go,” Ladybug whispered. She finished the statement with a soft kiss to his ear, a precious reward for his obedience.

The delicacy of the gesture was shattered in the next moment when she sucked his earlobe into her mouth.

Chat spasmed, electric shock running from his scalp to his extremities, pure heat blazing a path straight down his spine like a shot and _oh god_ did everyone’s ears do that or just his?

In his arms Marinette shivered right back, pressing closer, forcing him to sit up with her. The shift in angle pressed their groins tighter together, and Marinette mewled into his mouth at the same moment he groaned into hers. He put his hands on her hips to try to steady the pressure, get her to ease off a little for the sake of his sanity. His fingers folded over Ladybug’s where they still held Marinette fast, and he found himself groaning even louder at the feeling of her slim digits crossed under his.

Thoroughly out of breath, Chat broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Marinette’s.

She looked at him like she didn’t understand why he was so affected, and he wasn’t sure he could define it to her even if he’d had enough words in him to try. Just that Ladybug’s fingers under his, strong and confident and sure, _got_ him, got him in the deepest parts of his being, told his hindbrain _she is mine_ and _you are mine_ and _she is yours_ , sucked the air out of his lungs at the thought of possessing and being possessed.

Marinette seemed to dismiss her confusion, visibly shrugging it off as she closed her eyes and brought her hands up to cup his face. They stroked his cheeks with her thumbs before sliding her touch down to his chest, resting over his stuttering, hammering heart, making a quiet little claim of her own.

“Come on, Chat,” Ladybug taunted low in his ear, a red-hot counterpart to Marinette’s sugar-sweet gesture. “I know you can do better than _that_.”

As she said this she slid her hands up Marinette’s sides, over that little spot he’d discovered at the small of her back, and Marinette arched into him so hard that stars flashed before his eyes.

“Like this, remember?”

Ladybug pulled her hands away from Marinette’s back to catch his wrist and move his hand to the sweet spot, and Marinette slumped against him, panting and trembling.

He didn’t stroke the spot at first, just let his hand rest there while Marinette caught her breath, and she nosed the underside of his jaw in thanks, shuddering on an inhale, squeezing Chat’s heart in something that felt like fierce protectiveness, an instinctive reaction of _you’re vulnerable and you’re **mine**_.

Ladybug’s breath brushed the shell of his ear, and he braced himself for the system shock he was about to experience, but, to his surprise, it never came. Ladybug nuzzled the side of his head and touched another soft kiss to his ear, dragging a hand through his hair and making his scalp tingle, heart rate skittering.

(And maybe it was just Chat’s lovelorn heart, his overloaded mind, but it felt less like _reward_ and more like _affection_ — like an artless, wordless communication of love supporting him from behind.)

Tilting his head, he chased the sweet caress, seeking it like a balm for his battered emotions, but Ladybug’s fingers withdrew, pulling a whimper from his throat in their wake.

A warm mouth touched to his Adam’s apple, eased the sound to a stuttering halt even as Ladybug’s fingers slid back into his hair, nosing his ear in quiet apology. Marinette’s hands ran up his biceps, stroked across his chest and drew him back to her. Together they slipped something terrifyingly real under his skin, a shot of warmth straight into his chest to back the empty heat.

When Marinette looked up at him, her blue eyes were sympathetic, kind and laughing. She ran her thumb back and forth over the suit where it failed to protect his heart, a soothing little caress that failed to soothe, a little reassurance that wasn’t _capable_ of reassuring because it was the very thing that was destroying him.

He caught her wrist and tugged it away, covering her candy-sweet mouth with his own in a desperate bid to muffle his own feelings, smother them in the heat of having the only two people he’d ever wanted put their hands all over him.

Ladybug continued to stroke his hair, running the cool tip of her nose down his neck, and Chat just _drowned_ , drowned in the touch and taste and _emotion_ of being the center of attention like this.

His bid had failed him _horribly_.

Ladybug dropped a little kiss to his nape and pulled out of his hair before it could get to be too much, and Chat sagged a little into the place she’d vacated. Nerves sparked and fizzled, his heart quivering and aching, grateful and disappointed all at once.

She nipped him for his theatrics.

“I meant _actually_ kiss her, Chat,” she said wryly, teeth scraping his neck as she spoke.

He hummed a question at her, and Marinette giggled into their kiss.

“Deeper,” Ladybug suggested, smiling.

He was tempted to open his mouth as wide as it would go just to spite that smile. Luckily Marinette took orders better than he did, because he suddenly found her tongue in his mouth.

It was a very lovely tongue — he’d become very familiar with it over the course of their… whatever it was that they had — and it flitted around his mouth, flirting with his weak points, cheerfully erasing any thought of not taking this seriously.

Ladybug then erased every _other_ thought by stroking the edge of one ear with her tongue and the other with a fingertip, a touch he felt sweeping up from his toes, raising goosebumps on every inch of his skin, oxygen sucked from the room like someone had broken an airlock, keen building painfully high in his throat.

He ripped his mouth from Marinette’s and buried his face in her shoulder and _breathed_ , trying to regain his footing. The attempt was thwarted by the fact that he could now feel that heat he’d been chasing — could feel just how pinned he was, in the best possible ways, between two sets of lovely breasts, two pairs of firm thighs, two fluttering stomachs. An overwhelmed, desperate boy stuck in the middle of two decadent embraces.

If he’d been capable of coherent thought he might have thought something frantic about fool’s bets and being careful what you wished for, but now his every move only served to bring him back to how utterly he was enveloped.

This was either the highest form of heaven that existed, or the worst kind of torture.

“Hey,” Ladybug whispered. The air of her breath ghosted over the shell of his ear and cooled the wet stripe she’d left behind, cutting through the static white noise in his head. She leaned him forward again and started to grind her hips into his, in a slow, dark rhythm suited for muted nightclubs and expensive red wine. Her hand added a firm, guiding pressure to his hip. “Move with me.”

And he did, helplessly following the gyration of her hips. He couldn’t think, didn’t need to think with Ladybug here to call the shots. He let himself fall into it, into the shift and rasp of suit against suit against clothing and skin, into the little whimpers that slipped from Marinette’s throat with every press, letting each push break him down further and further and further.

He felt Ladybug’s hands start to move again. Marinette’s whimpers got higher with every pass. Every so often she’d shiver, or moan, and Chat would feel it echo though his body right back to Ladybug, shuddering through his spine and his gut. She’d respond in her own way, a hum or a purr or a deeper roll of her hips, and _that_ would echo through Chat too in the form of an answering growl or an obedient roll, back into Marinette who would take it and respond — and on and on, back and forth, hypnotic waves with Chat as the sand left to tumble in the rush, the most intimate of conduits used for a sensuous conversation, both the focus of their attention and not the focus at all.

He dimly realized that Ladybug was using him to pleasure Marinette, using him like a tool, like a toy, and the realization sparked a white-hot _rush_ that shot through his limbs like intoxication.

…Except that it wasn’t exactly like that. Every so often Ladybug would follow a smooth roll with a soft kiss, peppering affection over the nape of his neck, over the edges of his collar, behind his ears and over his ears. It triggered a shudder or a gasp every time, adding in the little ripples of his reaction to the constant push-pull of the waves already passing between the three of them.

“Mmn,” Ladybug murmured thickly, startling Chat out of his trance. “ _Belle fille_. Come here.”

Chat moved his head, making way for Marinette to push herself up against him. A moment of wordless _what?_ echoed through his mind as Ladybug did the same, letting go of Marinette’s hip to cradle her face, and then it _clicked_.

He laid his head on Marinette’s shoulder, face turned away and acutely aware that Ladybug and Marinette were kissing right over his shoulder.

The knowledge zinged through his blood, prickly cold-hot- _sharp_ , making the heated pressure at the base of his spine shamefully flare to life.

_That’s right. Marinette had met Ladybug first. She was Ladybug’s lover before she was his._

He was the outsider here, the latter addition, the third wheel for all that he was still technically between them, and, indescribably, their moment was a scene not meant for his eyes.

He could hear them, though.

He could hear the soft clicks and slick gasps. Could feel the restless shifting of Marinette’s hips and the affected tightening of Ladybug’s thighs.

He swallowed.

It wasn’t meant for his lust or his enjoyment. It was something perfect, above him, something fantastical and ethereal. He felt guilty, dirty in the face of this, a voyeur and a sinner.

Feeling like that didn’t make his head swim any less.

Ladybug murmured into the kiss, something filthy and exotic and intoxicating, and Marinette hummed back, something high and breathy and feminine. Chat was left to listen to the sinfully sweet duet, silent and shaking and forgotten and _unbearably_ turned on.

After an eternity Marinette sank back into his lap in a girly puddle, all kiss-flushed skin and lust-darkened eyes. Chat felt a tight knot of something not quite jealousy and not quite want gather in the pit of his stomach.

Marinette wasn’t only his, and it was a very strange thing to be reminded of by someone else’s effect.

He didn’t have time to study the emotion before Ladybug’s forearm came to rest on his shoulder, delicate, red-clad fingers caressing Marinette’s cheek.

“So beautiful,” she rasped, the clear note of awe in her tone taking that odd knot of emotion and flipping it inside out into something that felt shockingly like _pride_.

He couldn’t help but agree, all the same. His eyes fell on Marinette’s lips, swollen and dewy, and it occurred to him that if he kissed her now he’d be able to taste Ladybug on those lips.

He licked his own at the thought, and swallowed hard as he realized he could still taste Marinette on him.

(He wondered, faintly, if either of them tasted like _him._ )

He didn’t have time to think about _that_ either, because Ladybug chose that moment to tug Marinette towards him, and then he was drowning in the real thing.

The kiss she gave him was soft and firm just like the last, more affection than heat, and he wondered if this slow caress was a side that only Ladybug could bring out. The thought was about as disappointing as he expected, and his chest caved a little despite the fact that he was once again ensnared in the sweetest kind of trap.

The feeling lasted up until Ladybug dropped a kiss onto his nape, touch burning hot and lovingly warm at once, and then he was fighting a whine, heart too big for his chest.

She placed his hand at the small of Marinette’s back once again, and this time Chat didn’t waste time in drawing his claws over it in meaningless little patterns, pulling a myriad of reactions out of her lithe body, making her shake and clench and suck and bite and _oh, oh, oh—_

Hips guiding him all the while, Ladybug kissed him again, fraying the edges of his mind at the seams as he finally began to truly come undone.

“Such a good kitty,” Ladybug said, scraping her teeth lightly over the spot she just kissed. “You did well, Chat. Thank you.”

If he’d been standing, if she’d walked up to him after a hard battle fought and won and gave him just those words, just that touch, this would have been the part where his legs gave up for good and left him to swoon into her arms or fall at her feet, whichever she preferred.

As it was, the praise slunk through his marrow, slipping through his viscera, sinking dangerous, dangerous little hooks into his vulnerable heart. It felt better, _far_ better than it had any right to, sweeping him from head to toe and straight off his feet, twitching his hips out of rhythm with the force of it.

He could feel the clench of Ladybug’s forearm where it rested on his shoulder, and that was how he knew she was the one who broke the kiss with a hand in Marinette’s hair. The thought winded him yet again, leaving him to lean back, dazed and waiting.

Ladybug immediately used her grip to bring Marinette to her, so Chat dropped his head to the side once more, thinking she was going to kiss her again (and _fuck_ if the thought didn’t burn in his mind like _kerosene_ ).

Instead, she brought Marinette’s face to his newly exposed neck, nudging her own nose into the other, much less exposed side.

Chat lifted his head automatically, choking on a gasp as the two chose the exact same moment to open their mouths and _suck_.

It was at that point that Ladybug let go of his hip, and the last threads holding Chat to her rhythm broke down. He didn’t give into the urge to rut so much as the urge forcibly sucked him under while he was too weak to resist, but the effect was the same: Marinette whined against his neck as he thrust against the sweet cradle of heat between her thighs, grinding back into him with a breathy groan and a whimper; he tried to give way to her just as Ladybug rocked forward, the push of her hips forcing his even harder into Marinette. It was nearly, nearly enough to completely undo him, and far more than enough to wrench a strangled shout from somewhere deep inside his chest.

Marinette sank her teeth into him and pleasure-pain sparked behind his eyes as he moaned, so far gone just about _anything_ would feel good.

Yet Ladybug fisted her hand in Marinette’s hair, tugging it in gentle reprimand. “Tongue, _belle fille_ , not teeth.”

The unexpected consideration blindsided Chat, left him floating and unmoored at the realization that, somehow, he’d been reading this all wrong. That somehow he wasn’t the outsider here, that he didn’t exist in this space purely for Marinette’s pleasure. It was a disconcerting discovery, one that removed him just far enough from the here and now that the sound of Ladybug’s voice and the touch of Marinette’s tongue brought him back with a thump.

“There you go,” Ladybug purred. The noise vibrated against his skin, penetrating his flesh and bone and marrow, aching in its intensity. “Now suck, just here.”

She finished the statement with a brush of her fingers against a spot on his neck, between his tendons and collarbone. He had just enough time to realize what was about to happen — just enough time to think, in horror and delight, _oh fuck_ — and then Marinette’s eager mouth was chasing the spot before Ladybug had even removed her fingers.

Ladybug in turn settled her lips on a place close to his nape, and things got very fuzzy and very clear all at once for Chat.

His hips bucked helplessly at the twin brands fused to either side of his neck, at the hands suddenly disentangled from one another and now entangled with _him_ , at the slide and press and grind of being sandwiched groin-to-neck between the two most attractive people he’d ever met. They moved with him, despite the stuttering, slip-sliding flesh in clothing as their hips and stomachs chased his, and the heat that had been building in the base of his spine from the very beginning flared scalding hot and immediate with every touch.

He was realizing that being the singular focus of both of them was far, _far_ more than he could take.

And then Ladybug said, “His ears, like I told you.”

Someone whined. Chat thought that it might have been him.

She released his neck with a final suck and nuzzled her way up to the hollow of his jaw, littering meandering kisses over every inch of exposed flesh, and nipped the skin there lightly at the exact moment Marinette didn’t release him so much as trail her sucks straight up to his ear.

He had a single moment of grace, in which his world spun wildly off its axis and failed to right itself in any sane manner, before Ladybug passed some sort of signal to Marinette.

They took his earlobes into their mouths in perfect synchronization and nipped, dragging teeth over the hypersensitive edges and _sucking_.

He heard himself shout very distantly through the heady fog of _oh god oh god **oh god**_ , the heat crashing down around his head, the whiting-out of his entire world—

Adrien’s eyes flew open, his back arching off the bed on the tail end of _whatever_ had just hit him like a truck.

He stared at the ceiling with a blank gaze, chest heaving, dimly aware of the sweat trickling down his skin as he waited for existing to make sense again. For his heart to slow its rapid beating and his lungs to stop grasping for air.

The ceiling was his ceiling.

In his room.

Not Marinette’s.

_Fuck._

He took several deep breaths and ground the heels of his (shaking) palms into his eyes, limbs heavy with something that almost felt like afterglow as the feelings of twin bodies pressed warm and flush against his faded like ghosts. Tangled sheets and uncomfortably damp pajamas took their place, and he would have grimaced if he’d had the ability to do so.

What. The _fuck_. Was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU REALLY SHOULDN'T GIVE EX-HOMESTUCKS EXPRESSIONS LIKE CHATS IN TIMEBREAKER WHEN HE REALIZED THERE WERE TWO LADYBUGS OKAY
> 
> I BLAME THAT
> 
> also, blooper reel, feat. Mirthalia:
> 
> [10:38:36 PM] n'a pas son pareil: "I meant actually kiss her, Chat." laighakgh  
> [10:38:40 PM] n'a pas son pareil: "Marinette show this tool how it's done"  
> [10:42:29 PM] Hallie: chat opens his mouth as wide as he can just to be a little shit  
> [10:42:40 PM] n'a pas son pareil: mari bites his tongue for being a little shit  
> [10:42:52 PM] n'a pas son pareil: ladybug smacks both of them, suddenly it's a romcom  
> [10:43:11 PM] Hallie: then she matches him and ladybug tries to bite them both  
> [10:43:32 PM] n'a pas son pareil: why does anybody let us write things  
> [10:43:46 PM] Hallie: goddamn it why cant i put this in this is gold  
> [10:43:52 PM] Hallie: bc we're great


End file.
